Afterimage
by soodohnimh
Summary: Set after 8X01. Dexter goes to Debra's home. "I had the urge to either rush in there and close her robe properly or rip it from her shoulders."


Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Dexter and I am making no money or profit from this story. I'm just trying to make it through until next Sunday. This is supposed to be set after 8X01, so I guess there's spoilers through that episode. PWP. Lemon. I tried for angst, not sure if I got there. Feedback makes me seriously giddy at soodohnimh at aol dot com.

AFTERIMAGE

I couldn't stay away from her now that I knew that she was home. From outside, I could hear classical music blaring as I passed by her patio door. It was a piano piece, Chopin I think. The drapes were open, letting the last bit of twilight reach into her house. Through her front door window, I could see that she was sitting on her couch in her robe, her bare feet on the coffee table. Her hair was wet and her toenails are painted a dark blue. She was holding a bottle of bourbon, balancing it on her thigh. Her head was resting on the back of the couch, her eyes closed.

I knocked on the door. She slowly opened her eyes and turned only her head in the direction of the door. She saw me. Her mouth turned downward and her lips pursed together. She closed her eyes and turned her head back where it was. She was ignoring me. I insistently knocked again, a little louder. I couldn't be sure, but I think I saw her lips twitch upward just a little. She was taunting me. She knew I wanted in and she wouldn't have it.

I could've use my key. She knew I could. But I wouldn't and she knew it. We needed to find a way back to each other and breaking and entering wasn't going to make her trust me.

I waited a minute or two and walked around to look at her through the patio door. I knew I was stalking her but I couldn't help it. She needed to let me in. I could not leave. I needed to talk with her and be near her, if only to have her yell at me.

She didn't move for a long time, but eventually she opened her eyes to take another drink straight from the bottle. She saw me standing there looking at her. I took a chair and sat down, aligning my chair so that I was directly facing her. The patio doors were an invisible barrier between us.

She pulled a long drink from her bottle and set it on the table in front of her. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and I could see her lips form the word 'Fuck'. She grabbed a remote and clicked the music off with an exaggerated gesture. She stood up and looked directly at me, her hands held loosely at her sides. She said it again, walked to the back of her house, and into the bathroom.

She was gone for only a few minutes by my watch, and reappeared. She didn't even glance in my direction, but I knew she could see me. She was combing her hair as she walked back to the couch. The sun set quickly and it was nearly dark now. With how ever many shots she had, she stumbled a bit but made it to the couch. The chinese lanterns above me were lit, causing me to see my own reflection better than I could see inside.

She sat again on the couch and her robe gaped open. She was nude under her robe. The sight of the side of her breast made me squirm in my chair, having to readjust with a flush to my groin. She looked down to see that she was exposed and looked up to see me watching her. I could feel heat creeping into my face. Her eyes on me, wide and without makeup, sent another rush to my cock. Fuck!

Whatever she saw in my face makes her lips twitch again. She was enjoying this dammit, and it was starting to frustrate me. But I could be patient. At least I knew where she was and I could at least look at her, if not speak to her. Safe at home and hating me was far better than missing in action, miles from Miami.

She grabbed another remote and flipped on the TV. She settled into the corner of the couch, legs stretched out and her robe opened even more. I could see just the very edge of her nipple. I had the urge to either rush in there and close her robe properly or rip it from her shoulders. She watched the local news and I watched her.

As the news anchors signed off, she reached for the remote and her robe slipped completely off her shoulder. She looked up at me for the first time since she sat down and smirked at me. Punching the off button, she plunged the room into darkness. My reflection in the glass door blazed to life as the light from behind me is now the only light. I looked pathetic. I know I did, and I didn't care.

Jamie was watching Harrison tonight and I had no where to go. What Vogel said was… disturbing. Rarely do I feel the need to open up about my feelings, but Deb was the only one who knew what this meant. I ached to speak to her about this. Although considering how we last parted, I doubted she'd care. It was all about me, right? We were supposed to be living our own lives. But she didn't turn me in for Briggs. She could have. Easily.

Maybe she'd gone to bed for the night. I could wait. I stretched back in my chair and looked at the sky. The clouds were thick, blackening the sky and it smelled like rain. Even the stars wouldn't let me see them. The surf pounded against the shore in a constant hum. I closed my eyes and oddly, relaxed.

Time passed and I looked back at myself in the glass. Maybe this was foolish. She was in for the night and I could come back early tomorrow before work. But a red dot flared to life in the middle of my reflection's forehead, then disappeared. For an insane second, I thought that there was a rifle sighted at me.

She was in there. She was in there, smoking in the dark. She'd been watching me, for I don't know how long. She took another drag and for a brief second I could more clearly see that she was looking right at me. And then she disappeared into the darkness again.

I could feel my pulse in my ears as I saw her emerge out of the darkness as she approached the doors. Her hand hesitated for a second and then the 'click' of the lock sliding open seemed terribly loud. She disappeared back into the house. An invitation? A challenge?

I had to follow; I had no choice. The door slid open quietly and I stepped in. It's pot. She's been smoking pot.

I found her in her bedroom, sitting in the chair at the end of the bed. I walked toward her and stood at the end of her bed, looking down at her. We were alone and the intimacy of the situation pressed on us.

"Deb, you're right. I've always needed you. You never knew it but all along I would seek you out and lean on you to remind me who I am. I need you."

She stood, took two steps, and pushed me hard on my chest with both her hands. I expected a right cross, but I wound up on her bed on my back. She crawled on top of me. She pressed herself against my groin, and again, my body responded.

"You don't love me. It's insane. This isn't how you really feel." I said, while my hands found their way to her thighs.

Her voice was rough. "I really don't know anymore, Dexter. I really don't", and then her mouth crushed against mine. Her damp hair fell around us and it was just her and me and we were kissing.

She broke the kiss with a whimper and slid down off the bed and attacked my belt and zipper. I was hard before she got my cock out of my boxers. She practically ripped my pants down and off. Her long fingers wrapped around the base and she took me in her mouth. She closed her eyes as she fucked me with her mouth. Watching her giving me head was going to make me come, so I lay back and just felt her warm, wet mouth and flicking tongue, until….fucking teeth!

"Oh! Jesus, Deb", I groaned and looked down at her. She wickedly grinned around my cock and pulled her mouth away. She came back to me again and straddled me. She quickly unbuttoned my shirt and I pulled the belt from her robe. She reached between us, took me in hand, and guided me inside of her with a keening whimper. She put her hands on my chest and swiveled her hips as she rode me. She closed her eyes again. I got the feeling that she didn't care who was fucking her. It's like I wasn't part of this.

I tried to guide her hips with my hands but she swatted them away. She took my arms and held them over my head. Her grip on my forearms was brutal. I knew that I'd be bruised tomorrow. I could have overpowered her, but I let her do what she needed to do. She held me down and pumped up and down on me hard, grinding against me when our bodies met.

She started to become more breathy and vocal and she released my arms. Her hands trailed down my arms and came to rest gently on my neck. She finally looked me in the eyes. As she came, her hands tightened on my neck, her fingers finding the blood pumping in my jugulars. But I let her do it. I was starting to see stars as I felt her orgasm abating as she was involuntarily squeezing my cock.

I was still inside her and hard as ever when she let go of my neck. She stopped moving and slowly sat straight up on me. She seemed to be giving control to me now. I flipped her over onto her back and fucked her fast and hard. Each thrust brought me closer and all I could think of was mine, mine, mine, Mine, MINE, as I came.

When I finished, she pushed me off her and we both lay on the bed looking at the ceiling.

We were breathing hard, almost in counterpoint, but she recovered quicker. It was all that running she does, even now after months of abuse she'd done to her body, her heart rate recovered quickly. She sat up slowly and walked over to the bathroom. She smacked the light switch and light flooded the room, temporarily blinding me.

Before she closed the door, quietly she said "Leave. You can't stay here tonight. Get the fuck out. Go home." She shut the door.

I closed my eyes and the white silhouette of her standing in the doorway burned against my eyelids. I heard her start the shower as her bright afterimage haunted me.


End file.
